Last week I dropped in at Fayetteville’s only remaining independent bookstore for new books, Pearl’s, for a biweekly Writers Night I had not previously attended. Coming in new and cold is always a challenge. I had no idea what the meeting would be like, or who would show up, but found out soon enough in a rambling hour and a half.
Must’ve been hoping the Night would resemble the old monthly open-mic night at a previous indie bookstore, Nightbird, which started out big, dwindled, and finally crashed. The bookstore space dwindled, that is, and out went the cafe; a brewery moved in next store and thrived; the bookstore owner herself, may she rest in peace, died of cancer.
The open mic night at Nightbird, run by Ozark Poets and Writers, had been semi-curated: one main speaker was scheduled ahead of time, that is, and then on the night of the reading anyone could sign up for five minutes and try his or her luck with the listeners. As I recall, it was a lotta fun. I put in my two cents’ or five minutes’ worth several times, and we all got to hear some rambunctious verse.
When Pearl’s opened, about a half mile away, it attracted a good selection of local book readers and set up events, like Writers Night, for after hours. Necessarily, it could be, the focus from the start was more on commercial or pop genres than literary stuff. Pearl’s had to sell to stay alive, after all, in this not book-hungry day and age.
I don’t think the Pearl’s Writers Night is for me. There were about 15 people there, including me and Gerry Sloan, a poet friend and retired music professor; guests kept trailing in and eventually filled and overfilled the big table at the far end of the room.
Most were scifi and fantasy writers, or said they were. No one read anything. Instead, it was a free floating bull session facilitated by a gal who works at the bookstore.
Some intelligent and funny people, but I’m not interested in scifi or other pop genres nor, at this stage of the adventure, in helping newbie writers.
Better to stick with, and fortify, seems to me, existing poetry groups or those waiting to be born in whatever form.
Don’t you too want to take a chance with an open mic? To test out your ideas, images & voice? You may not have a ghost of a chance unless you put your name in the hat. Come on. We’ll call you up a bit later in the evening. Meanwhile, buy a soda or a beer from the eager to please store owners.